


Birds of a Feather

by ofsevenseas



Series: the minor fall and the major lift [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:54:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofsevenseas/pseuds/ofsevenseas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time she meets John, Shani flutters delightedly around her head in a circle, feathers quivering with excitement. “Oh,” he says, not bothering to whisper in the stone-walled room, “I like him.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birds of a Feather

The first time she meets John, Shani flutters delightedly around her head in a circle, feathers quivering with excitement. “Oh,” he says, not bothering to whisper in the stone-walled room, “I _like_ him.”

“I’m -” “No,” she says, forestalling the introduction in favour of shamelessly checking him out. His wolf daemon stands up to it well ( _of course_ she’s a wolf), padding along behind them, eyes bright and ears up in alert position. Shani flutters past Kara to perch on her head, but all she does is flick an ear, expression stolid. God help her, but she’s adorable, from blue-black nose to her gray-tipped tail.

Her new partner stands patiently, eyes almost sleepy, while his daemon patrols the room, Shani twittering above her near the ceiling. He’s tier one, and his file is almost disgustingly vanilla, which is probably why Mark gave him to her in the first place. She likes them new and shiny.

Kara takes a sip of her champagne. It’s gone a bit tepid in the wait, but their Hungarian host has good taste, and she smiles a little in appreciation. Shani lands on her shoulder, claws careful of her dress. She can feel his head turning this way and that, always keeping John in view of one of his eyes. “Don’t worry,” she says, “He’s only poisonous if you touch him.”

John suppresses his reaction, badly. He’s tense, and Kara doesn’t sigh, doesn’t kneecap him and send him home with a notation for miscalculating in the field. She decides to keep him, already possessive, even though clean-cut army boys have never adapted well and always, always end up disrupting the mission with some kind of trivial objection.

Still, he’s her partner for the time being, and she’ll have to take care of him. “Have a drink, John.” There’s an arrogance in his bearing when he refuses, and she knows she’s going to have to ground it down so that one day he doesn’t lose his life pandering to it, this conceit that he’s only taken on a job. It’s an assumption he can’t afford to make, and she lets him know in no uncertain terms that there is no going back.

She offers him the only truth she knows, the key to surviving in their line of work. His wolf finishes doing a full turn in the room, and pads away to stand guard at the door. For a moment, he looks like he’s considering asking her to tear Kara’s throat out for bringing his ex into this, but Shani flutters warningly from her shoulder, and the hints of anger and rebellion subside from John’s eyes.

From the corner of her eye, Kara notices that John’s wolf hasn’t changed position at all, still facing the door in the guard position. She supposes separation training counts for something, then, and settles in to wait for their marks.

They shuffle into the room, assured by her smiles and banter. It’s easy to forget, in the dimness of the room, that Shani displays the characteristic colouring of the ifrita, one of the only three species of poisonous birds in existence. John slips into the conversation easily enough, picking up her cues, his wolf subtly cutting off the exit. He’s still a little stiff, words a little too soft to be natural, but the two men take the bait anyway. Their names don’t matter, because they’ve proven themselves useless, and soon enough she puts a bullet in each their heads.

John looks shocked, or at least as shocked as he’s capable of being, and Kara thinks to herself that she’s going to enjoy introducing John to the various joys of the trade. Maybe he’ll break under them, but the knowledge would serve him better than death.

“Harper,” Shani muses, staring at John’s wide eyes, and Kara interrupts him. “No, not Harper.” She's certain his name should have a sharper, crisper sound.

John’s still stuck in his uncertainty, and she supposes that a little hand-holding is necessary here, and gives him orders that he’ll be able to carry out, and the reassurance that really, at this point, should not have to be said out loud to be known.

“It is right,” she says, willing him to understand that this is his life now, that they are the darkness. All their bridges are burnt behind them, willingly, permanently.

Apparently it is enough, because he gets up and starts dragging the bodies away for disposal.

She calls Snow, tells him that their anonymous source was right, again. “I think John will work out just fine.” In the background, Mark’s fox barks once, amused, and then she’s telling him to correct all their paperwork for Reese.

“And Kara,” Snow says, warningly, “Don’t kneecap him. The agency won’t give you another one.”

As she walks to the door, Kara passes Reese’s wolf, who stares back at her, amber eyes steady and evaluating. She smiles at her, not the agency smile she brings out for the public, but her own, the one that says, _welcome_ and _stay awake_ and _you’re mine_ and most importantly, _if you put a foot wrong I will shoot you_.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I have a soft spot for sociopathic murderers. Who knew?
> 
> Kara's daemon is a blue-capped ifrita.


End file.
